PREVIOUSLY in Chasing Gnomes... [in the voice of Rozlyn, our protagonist]

No time to talk right now. We're fighting, and I need to concentrate or I'll end up more full of holes than a net curtain made of swiss cheese.

So, yeah ... I refer my honourable colleague to my previous answer!

AND NOW, in Chasing Gnomes...


-----


I noticed Harry fall to the floor as a hurled gnome took him in the beard. His opponent, still clutching another victim, turned and moved toward me. Before he got close enough to be lethal, a pebble twanged from the side of his head, sending him staggering. He let out a roar of frustration as I lost sight of him, turning to keep my opponent at bay. Now behind me, I could hear the guy shouting at the gnome in his fist to cast something helpful or die.

Horror darkest, demon dread.
Find the threat who hit his head.

The guy fighting me managed to turn his back to the fire, trying to impair my view of him. It meant I got a great look at the sooty clump congealing above the flames like a twisting, oily cloud. To my side, I heard Harry shouting dwarven insults between expelled breaths, meaning he was fighting once again. The other side of the fire, I saw Terence surrounded by his two foes, chopping away at the one in front of him but oblivious to the guy about to spear him in the back. I needn't have worried - as the barbarian reared back for an enormous overhead strike, he buried his blade in the guy's skull on the backswing. Apparently not realising, his shoulders bunched as, with an almighty roar, he still managed to swing his sword forward again, first victim's corpse flying over his shoulder. His other opponent, whose mouth dropped open in astonishment, took three feet of steel and a full-size soldier in the face, to horrific effect.

Acid seared into my side and a chuckle came at me. "No heroes," whispered my foe as he pulled his sword back again, my blood glistening on its blade in the firelight. Behind him, the sooty cloud coalesced into a black spider, easily four feet wide. It dropped onto the flames, shrieked, and skittled straight up the hill towards Little-John's hiding place.

Anger boomed in my stomach like a firework detonating. I was damned if I was going to die here, and damned if I'd lose any friends. "Suck my cock, piss-swiller!" I launched myself forwards, shoulder first. It's amazing how often this works. Realising I meant to push him on the fire, my target tried to dodge instead of stabbing me. As we impacted, I caught him to one side of the torso, spinning him away.

It was almost incidental that I'd slammed one dirk hilt-deep in his groin at the same time.

My foot tangled with his as he twisted to the ground, and I turned away from the fire, knowing I was heading into it no matter what. My back landed square in the centre of the pyre, fiery spines of wood digging through my soft armour. I pulled my hands into the centre of my chest to protect them, hoping my weight would knock out most of the fire's fervour.

To one side, I saw Harry finishing off his foe with an axe to the belly. From the other, I could hear Lindon.

"Roz, Roz! Shit a brick, guys, get her out of there!"

Pain blossomed in the back of my head but then I was being lifted and rolled across the clearing.

"Guys, guys, I'm okay." I sat up, putting a hand to the nape of my neck. "If a little balder than before. Seriously, that guy owes me a hair styling appointment."

The others had gone quiet, staring at my back. I realised my armour must have burned away.

"Old scars," rumbled Harry. "At least a year old."

"Is that?" started Lindon.

I sighed - no more hiding it now. "Yes, it's dragonburn. Yes, it's a long story. No, I'm not going to tell it now."

"What is scorched may never burn," quoted the elf.

"Yeah," I snorted. "I'm impervious to fire, but only from one very specific direction - real helpful."

An ear-splitting shriek pierced the air, sending shudders right to my core. My heart sank as I realised it was coming from the rocky outcrop.

"Call that thing off!" I yelled at the gnome who'd summoned it, who was standing with his mouth agape, staring at us. He blinked and nodded.

Horror darkest, demon dread.
Your job is done. Go back to bed.

We rushed up the hill to our fallen comrade but saw immediately there was no help for him. Little-John's small body was covered in holes and a grimy black residue. He was breathing in great shuddering heaves of air and fresh blood was bubbling from the holes in his chest.

"Shit on me!" spat Lindon. "I should have stayed with you, little man."

The gobbit shook his head. "I got to be a hero," he whispered.

I stroked his unbearably cute face and held his hand. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

His eyebrows raised and a half smile turned his lips. "Can ... could I see your boobs again, Miss Rozzy - just a quick peek before I die?"

I felt my head slump forward, caught between affront and amusement. "I just ... I just ... no, EllJay. You can't." A tear slipped from my eye and I loathed and loved it in equal measure.

His hairy fingers squeezed in my palm and his eyes widened, then stopped. "It's a miracle!" he croaked, and then he croaked.

"Uh didn't know him long," said Harry, "but he seemed a good lad."

Gobbit dead. Sorrow. We survive. Grateful.

I turned to see the nine surviving gnomes standing in a circle around us. They were about two feet tall and skinnier than beanpole supermodels. Each wore a black cloak and a bright floppy hat, which did nothing to hide that their tiny, soft faces looked like young children's.

"I'm sorry one of you got roasted," was all I could think to say. I was even sorrier that some of said gnome was probably smeared across my back.

We repay. How?

I snorted. "Well, if you could get us back to Pennylast, pay off my fifty thousand gold debt and tell me where to find Hexapussy, things would be just dandy."

Okay.

"I'm sorry, what? I was actually joking."

You save gnomes at great cost. Hexapussy unclear, but sense something North. We take. Other stuff, do we can. We wait. Gnome Train coming.

"The Gnome Train sounds unbearable," said Lindon, but without any enthusiasm.

While we waited, we buried our friend and lit an offering pyre. We each burned one of our possessions in tribute to Little-John and said a few words about our feelings for him. It didn't feel like enough, but it was the way we all wanted to be treated. The mercenary way.

"I hope you're picking locks in the gobbit afterlife," I muttered.

When a pop sounded in the clearing and a child size collection of carriages appeared from thin air, I felt like I should have been more shocked. Somehow, with the day we'd had, it just seemed par for the course. Each open-top carriage was big enough for one of us and Terence straddled one, his feet dangling either side. Sitting atop the front carriage, presumably driving, was a female gnome with long, bright silver hair.

Mother of Gnomes.

Lindon was the last hold-out. "I can't get on that. It's all cute and pretty and nice."

"It's the gnome way or a long walk," I said, and he relented.

With a choo-choo and another pop, we lurched forward into a tunnel of rainbows and glitter ... like my day hadn't been bonkers enough already.